


Exploding Fluff

by sophelia_moon



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Happy Birthday Akemi Homura, Kyuubey's there for two seconds, Madoka is there in Homura's heart, One-Sided Akemi Homura/Kaname Madoka, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, watching over her from Magical Girl Heaven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 17:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13768746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophelia_moon/pseuds/sophelia_moon
Summary: After a battle with wraiths, Homura and Kyouko have an impromptu "sleepover." An attempt at a pre-dawn snack is made, but there's just one problem...(Homura-centric, post-canon, not compliant with Wraith Arc or Rebellion.)





	Exploding Fluff

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot originated from prompt #949 from daily-prompts on tumblr. There's one tiny thing from Wraith Arc in here and that's the wording of Homura's wish, because I like it. Otherwise, nothing from Wraith Arc or Rebellion happened here at all.

“Those are my feelings towards Madoka! That's why, once more, lend me power! Not as the shield that protects Madoka but as the power that smites anyone who threatens her!”

 

White, writhing—Homura looked upon the wraiths with disdain. She sensed the gaze of the alien Kyuubey, but did not bother to locate him. Instead, she drew her bow and fired, arcs of violet light striking her opponents true, the magical arrows guided more by instinct then her hands. Satisfied that the wraiths had all been disintegrated, Homura dematerialized her bow in almost the same instant she heard a _crunch_.

She glanced over at Kyouko, who was munching a pretzel stick.

“You good over there?” Kyouko asked.

Homura nodded. “We’re done here.”

The two of them prowled the streets of Mitakihara alone tonight. Mami had come down with a minor cold and had insisted on holing up in her apartment in order not to infect her teammates—or her friends, as Mami would put it.

They were her friends too, Homura supposed. It was strange, being able to think of them like that after so long only prioritizing Madoka.

In the loops of repeating time, even her goal of saving Madoka, to which she dedicated her entire existence, proved impossible for Homura to achieve on her own. In the end, Madoka had saved herself, and every magical girl along with her, at the cost of becoming the goddess of this world. The human known as Kaname Madoka only existed in Homura’s memories now.

Despite all of Madoka’s undeniable power, Homura could not help but worry over her happiness at first, but—when she regained her memories and felt Madoka’s presence, somehow she knew there was nothing more to worry about. This was the path Madoka wanted to be on and believed in with all her heart. And so, there was nothing for Homura to do but assist her as best she could—this time not as a protective shield, but as an arrow of divine wrath.

As she gathered up the grief cubes, it didn’t take long for Kyuubey to come out of hiding.

“Not a bad haul,” he said, catching the cubes neatly. Homura would have described his tone as “cheery” if she were prone to ascribing emotions to beings that possessed none.

“Good work all around, team.” Kyouko clapped, sardonic. “We’ll be seeing you, champ.”

Kyuubey tilted his head, but acquiesced easily enough. He departed, his movements as silent as ever.

 _Was that necessary?_ Homura asked Kyouko telepathically.

 _It’s got to be almost 3:00 AM,_ Kyouko replied. _I am so done with this day—night. Whatever._

“You’re welcome to come back to my apartment,” Homura said, beginning to leave herself.

Kyouko yawned. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Kyouko wouldn’t have agreed to such an offer so easily in the past, but after months of fighting by each other’s sides, a certain amount of pride on Kyouko’s part—and reserve on Homura’s—had been worn down.

Homura and Kyouko quickly traversed the dark city streets, undoing their transformations when they reached Homura’s apartment block. When Homura at last opened her door and checked the time, she realized it was indeed after three.

“You remember where the pullout couch is,” said Homura. She turned to go towards her bedroom—

“I don’t think so,” Kyouko said, stepping in front of her. “It’s Saturday! You don’t have school tomorrow…what about having some fun?”

Whatever uncertainty Kyouko felt over her proposal, she railroaded over it through force of personality.

“I thought you were ‘done with this day,’” Homura quoted.

“Done with _work,”_ Kyouko said, rolling her eyes. “Do you have any chocolate?”

Kyouko was rummaging through Homura’s pantry as she spoke. She routinely became disgusted by the kinds of food Homura ate, which tended to be either cheap or healthy (the twain rarely met), so she should have been able to guess the answer, but unexpectedly, she crowed in victory.

“I knew this would pay off!” she said. “Remember last week, when you were trying to teach me a whole bunch of useless shit you learned in school?”

Homura scowled. That’s what she got for trying to be nice.

“Anyway, before then, I broke in and hid some stuff for emergencies—like this one. You’re welcome.”

She pulled out a box of graham crackers, a six pack of Hershey’s chocolate, and a jar of marshmallow creme. They had been hiding behind her granola bars. Somehow, Homura felt affronted, as if her own apartment had betrayed her instead of Kyouko.

“S’mores! Irresistible. Feel free to put on your pajamas first. It’ll be like a real sleepover,” said Kyouko.

They technically _were_ having a sleepover, but she knew what Kyouko meant.

For now, Homura decided to stay exactly where she was; her supervision would be an adequate precaution against mischief. She watched Kyouko place her bounty on the black countertop and get out two plates. She assembled the s’mores with machinelike efficiency and zealous love. She was chewing on a strand of her hair instead of the customary food item, Homura noted with amusement.

Having laid out the graham crackers and squares of chocolate, she paused. “I’ll warm up the marshmallow creme first. The chocolate doesn’t take long to melt.”

Kyouko pressed the button on the lower-right corner, popping the microwave drawer open. She stuck the jar inside. She closed the door and set it for a minute and thirty seconds _._

Homura saw nothing wrong with this.

Kyouko stretched, yawning once again. Her usual long red ponytail had begun to lose its coherence, strands sticking out wildly.

“Sure you aren’t too tired?” Homura inquired, trying to keep her tone light.

“I’m never too tired for sugar,” said Kyouko. “So, how’s your secret journal coming along?”

Homura flipped strands of her hair over her left shoulder. “It’s possible I will be able to disseminate it one day. To answer your question…I’m not quite sure. It’s hard to find the words, I suppose. What to share and what to keep hidden…”

As the months went on, Homura began to regret more and more her talkativeness towards Kyuubey on the matter of Madoka and the former universe. He’d seemed like a vanquished opponent to her then, where once his figure haunted her nightmares, and she needed to speak, to prove that it was all real, that she wasn’t going crazy.

_If the rules of the universe were rewritten like you said, we’d have no means of verifying it._

Fair enough. That was why they called it “faith.” And here she was, writing her own gospel.

Kyouko didn’t know the contents of her “journal,” as her wording implied. When it came to Homura’s beliefs, she had simply told them she believed in a Goddess, the savior of magical girls. Mami took this information in stride as part of Homura’s eccentric nature, and Homura was just as adept as shrugging off Kyouko’s questioning.

“Well…I’m probably not the best option, but if you ever need someone to look over stuff, I guess I wouldn’t mind helping you out.” Kyouko had her hands in her sweatshirt pockets, her eyes unexpectedly staring straight into hers. Homura felt her heart beat a little faster.

That’s when the top popped off the jar.

Kyouko’s head turned to look at the microwave while Homura craned her neck past her.

Her microwave had become a war zone. Sticky marshmallow clung to the walls and even now continued to bubble up from the jar and flow over.

Wasn’t…putting metal in the microwave supposed to be a bad idea?

Kyouko’s index finger leaped forward and smashed the button, stopping the formidable mess from gaining further exposure to heat. “…Fuck.”

As Homura padded over to the sink to grab some paper towels, Kyouko had snatched Homura’s oven mitts from the nearby hook and grabbed the jar, hastily setting it down on one of the plates.

“It’s not a big deal,” said Homura, wetting paper towels and scraping swathes of marshmallow from the microwave surface.

“No, I feel like a total idiot. I should have known it would explode.”

Homura glanced at her. “It’s really not a problem. Some of it is salvageable, right? Next time, we’ll have to monitor the proceedings more closely to avoid making a mess.”

“Next time?” Kyouko cocked her head.

Homura looked away. “…This sort of thing…I don’t hate it, as long as it doesn’t interfere with our duty.”

To be honest, with Mami incapacitated for a while, they'd be wise not to deprive themselves further of sleep than they already have. Homura probably shouldn’t be watching Kyouko first shake her head in disbelief, then laugh, loudly. There were the neighbors to think about.

 _Madoka will approve,_ Homura thought ruefully. _She likes to see me getting along with others._

“Will wonders never cease,” Kyouko said, after she managed to collect herself. “Alright! Let’s do this! Um…first, I have to put these in the microwave…”

 

_Homura-chan, my dear friend, never doubt that I am always by your side._


End file.
